Greetings, loyal readers!! Hello to anyone who comes occasionally! Goodbye to anyone who is not here.
Over the last few weeks, I have actually had a ton of REAL WORK to do (scary, isn't it) so I haven't been much of a blog updator. There are designs and proposals and meetings, OH MY! Hopefully at least one of these irons will come out of the fire and bear fruit down the right track to the light at the end of the tunnel of love (too many metaphors?).
Honestly, I think I would put you all to sleep if I started talking about the proposals I have been writing. Instead, I thought I would talk about a few things that really give me a warm, squishy feeling inside. First, imagine that you just had a tray of fresh brownies dumped down the front of your pants. Got it? Let us begin:
- Geckos; instead of scary, evil looking spiders that may or may not kill you (USA) we have lizards very similar to the Anoles that I had in a terrarium in elementary school. Those died for lack of food. The ones here eat every gosh darn mosquito in the place. I love it. It is also incredibly cool to watch them run at full tilt along the ceiling. One would think that they would fall or simply forget that they were upside down and fail to plant that foot before lifting the other one, but no. They are probably the best good luck charm I have found here in this crazy tropical pair-o-dice.
Public Transportation; Let's face it, if you live in the good ole US of Oil and are trying to "live a normal life" without a car, you will be met by strong social, economical and temporal barriers. What I mean is that every aspect of American (specifically Sub-Urban and Rural) life is entirely governed by the assumption that everyone there is comfortable buying, owning, using and maintaining a motor vehicle of some sort. Bus schedules and many peoples' varied workdays and need for daily efficiency make public transportation a joke. Added to this is the food procurement process which, in "America," has been totally centralized to the point where mom and pop shops no longer exist and everything is run through freeways and parking lots and efficient, digitally managed lines. Okay, okay, I said these things would be positive; how are those brownies doing?
In the Philippines, what happens when you need to travel somewhere beyond convenient walking distance (and you don't want to use your bike for one reason or another)? You walk to the road, look at the column of jeeps headed your way, flag one down and hop on for the ride. Even public transportation in the US has to be scheduled and managed to remain thus (ever been yelled at by a bus driver who couldn't wait the extra two seconds for you two get on so that he could keep on his second-to-second schedule?. In the Phils, you walk to the road where you know you can find the route you want and within a minute, usually less, you have your reasonably priced ride and most likely some really bad music and mid-80's posters of Tom Cruise to go with it. There are a lot of reasons that something like this would not work in the US; I will not delve into all of those now, suffice to say that people are stupid and demand that any personal injury liability be put on someone else's shoulders insead of their own dumb-ass (McDonald's Coffee).
If you don't want a jeep and need to go a shorter distance, it is likely that a motorcycle-with-sidecar (tricycle) can take you there with a smile and a small shrine to Mr. J. C. saying something to the effect of "you had better pray that we don't crash, I need both my hands on the wheel right now!" It is also a brownie-esqe feeling when I see that, in a land devoid of phonebooth/volkswagen stuffing contests, they have managed to cram 13 Filipinos and all of their market purchases onto a 250cc tricycle. Good times.
- My third and final warm and fuzzy award goes to any person who I have seen on the street and has smiled back with nothing to lose or gain from me. Walk down the street here. Look someone in the eye, smile and raise your eyebrows a bit to say "How YOU doin'?" and they will respond in kind (though sometimes with less teeth). The kids run up to you and want to touch your hands and know your name. The men want you to get drunk with them at 8:30 in the morning. I have resisted most temptations so far. Everyone wants to know who you are, where you are from and "Wont you come meet my daughter? She is 23, just like you! She wants to go to the US when she finishes her degree!"
On the bad days, the constant attention feels more like an icepick to the nostrils than brownies in the pants, but that is the way Peace Corps goes. Due to the long, colorful, shared history of the US and the Phils, Americans are like royalty here. Everyone in my neighborhood knows my name, where I live, what I eat for breakfast on each day of the week, how many times I have gone biking this week and when is the best time to ask me to join them for a cold one or five (answer, after 12:01 PM).
Warm and fuzzies having been completed, you may now eat your tray of brownies.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Skype is cooooooool....
I know I shouldn't be as impressed with technology because I surround myself with it on a regular basis, but SKYPE IS AWESOME!!! I am not only calling my parents, hands-free I might add, from the other side of the world, I am also blogging about it and referencing pictures mid-conversation.
If you are reading this and you have a computer and would like to talk to me, consider getting skype and we can do some free person-to-person calling.
The age of going to the 7-11 (or 6-12, depending on where you live), looking up the international rates on phone cards and then trying to hold a decent conversation through 8 second delay is now at an end. I am talking with both of my parents on two different computers and chatting and blogging and surfing and scratching my ass all at the very same time. If I wanted to, I could have a burrito and make it all really freakin' crazy.
Get Skype. Call me. We will talk about things and stuff.
If you are reading this and you have a computer and would like to talk to me, consider getting skype and we can do some free person-to-person calling.
The age of going to the 7-11 (or 6-12, depending on where you live), looking up the international rates on phone cards and then trying to hold a decent conversation through 8 second delay is now at an end. I am talking with both of my parents on two different computers and chatting and blogging and surfing and scratching my ass all at the very same time. If I wanted to, I could have a burrito and make it all really freakin' crazy.
Get Skype. Call me. We will talk about things and stuff.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
New pictures!!!
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
New apartment, new inspirations
When I last left you, my loving audience, I was in the midst of a housing crisis; that crisis has been resolved in winning style. I have officially moved from my ex-host family's house to the campus hotel and from there (finally!!!) to my own awesome apartment. If you will notice in the previous sentence, the word "awesome" is enhanced not only with italics, but also with bold; lets just say that Blogger.com does not give me enough text formatting options to really do this word justice, but I digress.
Whenever my camera gets out of the shop (aka, my bedroom) and into my backpack again, I will post pictures of the rooms and the view. It is a brand new concrete building painted a really bad shade of institution green. I live on the second floor with an unobstructed view of Mt. Mayon and a good vista of the town and the airport. If you walk up one more set of stairs, there is a communal rooftop deck for box socials, suarees or just plain ole' lying down and staring at the stars.
#1 problem with moving into a new place: you have to buy a lot of new crap
I took yesterday off to cruise town and get my kitchen ready for Page's 2006 cooking experiment; more on that as details emerge.
This last weekend I decided that I needed an escape. I was feeling too bogged down by work (hard to imagine in the Peace Corps, but it is true) and in need of a bike race to participate in. As it so happened, luck was with me. This weekend was a two part experiment to determine how much my leg muscles have really atrophied since I have come here and to see how difficult it would be to do some serious travel with a large pack and bike. Another volunteer friend of mine, Katie, lives on the nearby island of Catanduanes . Their fiesta has been going on for the last few weeks or so and Katie had mentioned previously that a bike race was a part of that. Being an avid biker and occasionally liking a challenge, I decided to visit.
There were 2 races available to enter, the 20km "Fun Ride" and the 50km "Open Category Mountain Bike Race." Being totally sensible and not at all swayed by the wussy title of "Fun Ride" I of course chose the Open Category Ultra-Mega-Too-Hardcore-For-People-Who-Know-What-A-Duvet-Is Mountain Bike Race. Since I have done almost no training other than a two or three bikerides a week around the city, I felt that the preparations on the day itself were crucial for success.
I didn't have more than 2 glasses of wine the night before the race. I slept at least 6 hours. I filled my camelback. I sacrificed a collection of small mammals to the gods of the Shimano drive-train. On the morning of the race, I stretched, warmed up and talked with some of the other racers to try and convince them not to kick my ass too hard. Clearly there was a language barrier.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pwned
If the above link doesn't really do my moral victory justice, allow me to relate the events of the first 4km of the 50km race. Believe me, nothing really matters after the chase car decides you aren't worth chasing anymore and speeds off to follow someone with some skill....
Here is the image for you: I am sitting near the front of the pack waiting to begin. My gears are shifted for maximum acceleration, my camelback valve is open and ready to dispense and my legs are just itching to start the race. 10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. The first racer has decided he doesn't care about the count anymore and has started inching forward. 2. The second and third racers have taken the cue of the first racer. 1. GO! Plus 10 seconds into the race. More than half the pack is completely out of sight (not a joke). Plus 6 minutes or so into the race. The fat kid who I was hoping to actually compete with has disappeared from sight. Plus 7 minutes. The leaders of the "Fun Ride" have passed me. Plus 9 minutes. The chase car has stopped caring for my health and well-being and is well out of sight. I saw the chase car a little while later scraping some guy off the road who realized that concrete tasted better than winning and decided to stop for a snack. He was okay afterwards, but his eye was a little ground-beefish.
In the end, I biked about 20km and then grabbed the chase car on its return trip down the course (a there-and-back-again type of race). Embarassed, I finally made it back to downtown in time to catch up with the other volunteers who had just had a similar experience in the improperly named "Fun Ride."
It was a good time, and my first bike race ever.
There are a number of bike clubs from all around Legazpi city. I think I will start biking with them to train so that one day I may actually be able to compete on the wussy level.
I will have pictures from my apartment and site visits to local water supplies (yeah, I do actually do work sometimes) will be posted before too long.
Keep sending your emails, I love it when people do that. For every person that donates one email worth of care in my direction, I will pledge at least 5 extra minutes of hard work this week to help the people of the Philippines (okay that is kinda mean, but keep emailing anyway)
PEACE
Whenever my camera gets out of the shop (aka, my bedroom) and into my backpack again, I will post pictures of the rooms and the view. It is a brand new concrete building painted a really bad shade of institution green. I live on the second floor with an unobstructed view of Mt. Mayon and a good vista of the town and the airport. If you walk up one more set of stairs, there is a communal rooftop deck for box socials, suarees or just plain ole' lying down and staring at the stars.
#1 problem with moving into a new place: you have to buy a lot of new crap
I took yesterday off to cruise town and get my kitchen ready for Page's 2006 cooking experiment; more on that as details emerge.
This last weekend I decided that I needed an escape. I was feeling too bogged down by work (hard to imagine in the Peace Corps, but it is true) and in need of a bike race to participate in. As it so happened, luck was with me. This weekend was a two part experiment to determine how much my leg muscles have really atrophied since I have come here and to see how difficult it would be to do some serious travel with a large pack and bike. Another volunteer friend of mine, Katie, lives on the nearby island of Catanduanes . Their fiesta has been going on for the last few weeks or so and Katie had mentioned previously that a bike race was a part of that. Being an avid biker and occasionally liking a challenge, I decided to visit.
There were 2 races available to enter, the 20km "Fun Ride" and the 50km "Open Category Mountain Bike Race." Being totally sensible and not at all swayed by the wussy title of "Fun Ride" I of course chose the Open Category Ultra-Mega-Too-Hardcore-For-People-Who-Know-What-A-Duvet-Is Mountain Bike Race. Since I have done almost no training other than a two or three bikerides a week around the city, I felt that the preparations on the day itself were crucial for success.
I didn't have more than 2 glasses of wine the night before the race. I slept at least 6 hours. I filled my camelback. I sacrificed a collection of small mammals to the gods of the Shimano drive-train. On the morning of the race, I stretched, warmed up and talked with some of the other racers to try and convince them not to kick my ass too hard. Clearly there was a language barrier.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pwned
If the above link doesn't really do my moral victory justice, allow me to relate the events of the first 4km of the 50km race. Believe me, nothing really matters after the chase car decides you aren't worth chasing anymore and speeds off to follow someone with some skill....
Here is the image for you: I am sitting near the front of the pack waiting to begin. My gears are shifted for maximum acceleration, my camelback valve is open and ready to dispense and my legs are just itching to start the race. 10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. The first racer has decided he doesn't care about the count anymore and has started inching forward. 2. The second and third racers have taken the cue of the first racer. 1. GO! Plus 10 seconds into the race. More than half the pack is completely out of sight (not a joke). Plus 6 minutes or so into the race. The fat kid who I was hoping to actually compete with has disappeared from sight. Plus 7 minutes. The leaders of the "Fun Ride" have passed me. Plus 9 minutes. The chase car has stopped caring for my health and well-being and is well out of sight. I saw the chase car a little while later scraping some guy off the road who realized that concrete tasted better than winning and decided to stop for a snack. He was okay afterwards, but his eye was a little ground-beefish.
In the end, I biked about 20km and then grabbed the chase car on its return trip down the course (a there-and-back-again type of race). Embarassed, I finally made it back to downtown in time to catch up with the other volunteers who had just had a similar experience in the improperly named "Fun Ride."
It was a good time, and my first bike race ever.
There are a number of bike clubs from all around Legazpi city. I think I will start biking with them to train so that one day I may actually be able to compete on the wussy level.
I will have pictures from my apartment and site visits to local water supplies (yeah, I do actually do work sometimes) will be posted before too long.
Keep sending your emails, I love it when people do that. For every person that donates one email worth of care in my direction, I will pledge at least 5 extra minutes of hard work this week to help the people of the Philippines (okay that is kinda mean, but keep emailing anyway)
PEACE
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Greetings after 6 MONTHS IN THE PEACE CORPS
You may remember me as that guy who stopped posting on his blog more than a month ago for no particular reason. You may also remember me as that friend/relative/acquaintance/bitter enemy/personal trainer to whom you loved to talk at one time. Now there is a new way you can think about that guy Page: the guy who survived the biggest typhoon the Philippines has seen in 20 years fast asleep on a bus in the middle of nowhere.
I have not been able to post to this blog or answer any email for the last month due to the severity of the storm and the remote-ness of the training site of Peace Corps. For most of you, don't take it personally; I am not ignoring you. For the remaining few (you know who you are) I am ignoring you because of those nasty comments you made about my weight...bastards....
Last wednesday, the 27th, I was on my way back from Manila. I had just finished my Peace Corps technical training. I decided to take the day bus because I hate spending the night in such an uncomfortable place. The day bus usually takes about 12 hours. At around 5:30 PM, the rain picked up and the bus slowed down. I ate a big meal at the dinner stop because I figured it might be a long ride. Boy was I right.
We came upon a downed tree at around 7:30 PM and the bus driver decided to wait out the night there on the road (this being the only road leading from Manila to Legazpi). The wind was howling. The bus was shaking. A few times during the night, I awoke with a start to the sound of a large tree falling on the roof. I thanked my lucky stars that I was in a shelter designed to be watertight and not made out of tin and bailing wire.
In the morning, the remaining 45 minute trip to Legazpi took 6 hours as we passed tree after tree blocking the road. At every tree there was a team of at least 6 or 8 local residents who had their Bolos (Machetes) out and were wailing away on every branch they could see. I could see a lot of branches that needed wailing. I have pictures that will be published later on that show some of this mayhem.
THE KICKER: When I got back to my site, I knew that I had about a week to find a new place to live because the initial signed agreement between me and my host family was about to expire. Instead of taking into consideration that maybe it would be difficult to find a new apartment, what with all the broken houses and lack of water or electricity, SHE KICKED ME OUT! The worst part is, she couldn't even come out and say it! She had to be a passive-aggressive [CENSORED] and not even actually answer me when I asked if I could maybe extend the housing agreement a little bit longer!! When I mentioned the idea, she shook her head, got up and went to hide in her room! It is as though, because she is a Filipino who is well off, she can ignore any cultural ideas of accommodation and "helping her fellow man." I am moving into a hotel temporarily tomorrow. I could rant on this subject for many an hour, but you guys get the gist.
Training was cool, we learned how to make sand and gravel water filters that cost almost nothing. My project here at Aquinas will probably involve them in some way over the next year. The Bio-Sand filter is a great idea. I will post more on that at another time.
Oh yeah, and if you come visit me, we are going to Boracay island and sitting on a beach for an extended period of time.
Page
I have not been able to post to this blog or answer any email for the last month due to the severity of the storm and the remote-ness of the training site of Peace Corps. For most of you, don't take it personally; I am not ignoring you. For the remaining few (you know who you are) I am ignoring you because of those nasty comments you made about my weight...bastards....
Last wednesday, the 27th, I was on my way back from Manila. I had just finished my Peace Corps technical training. I decided to take the day bus because I hate spending the night in such an uncomfortable place. The day bus usually takes about 12 hours. At around 5:30 PM, the rain picked up and the bus slowed down. I ate a big meal at the dinner stop because I figured it might be a long ride. Boy was I right.
We came upon a downed tree at around 7:30 PM and the bus driver decided to wait out the night there on the road (this being the only road leading from Manila to Legazpi). The wind was howling. The bus was shaking. A few times during the night, I awoke with a start to the sound of a large tree falling on the roof. I thanked my lucky stars that I was in a shelter designed to be watertight and not made out of tin and bailing wire.
In the morning, the remaining 45 minute trip to Legazpi took 6 hours as we passed tree after tree blocking the road. At every tree there was a team of at least 6 or 8 local residents who had their Bolos (Machetes) out and were wailing away on every branch they could see. I could see a lot of branches that needed wailing. I have pictures that will be published later on that show some of this mayhem.
THE KICKER: When I got back to my site, I knew that I had about a week to find a new place to live because the initial signed agreement between me and my host family was about to expire. Instead of taking into consideration that maybe it would be difficult to find a new apartment, what with all the broken houses and lack of water or electricity, SHE KICKED ME OUT! The worst part is, she couldn't even come out and say it! She had to be a passive-aggressive [CENSORED] and not even actually answer me when I asked if I could maybe extend the housing agreement a little bit longer!! When I mentioned the idea, she shook her head, got up and went to hide in her room! It is as though, because she is a Filipino who is well off, she can ignore any cultural ideas of accommodation and "helping her fellow man." I am moving into a hotel temporarily tomorrow. I could rant on this subject for many an hour, but you guys get the gist.
Training was cool, we learned how to make sand and gravel water filters that cost almost nothing. My project here at Aquinas will probably involve them in some way over the next year. The Bio-Sand filter is a great idea. I will post more on that at another time.
Oh yeah, and if you come visit me, we are going to Boracay island and sitting on a beach for an extended period of time.
Page
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Active vacationing at its finest
First, I should point out that there are NEW PICTURES UP!!!!
After weighing my options for the two weeks since my last update, I have decided that it would be better to actually experience something before I write any more.
I have been evacuated due to the erupting volcano, this is not news.
Friday I decided to take a vacation from my vacation and leave the peace and quiet of the Amor Farm Beach Resort in Donsol in search of better entertainment. A fellow volunteer, Richard Higgins, has a site in the town of Daet in Camarines Norte. He told me, earlier this week, that he was having a Solid Waste Management seminar. Given that my sector is Water and Sanitation, I felt obliged to attend.
By a strange coincidence, Daet also has the only good surf beach in the Bikol region. Must have been a lucky choice on my part to go....
SWM Conference Meringue
6 Volunteers
1 Local Official
3 Pieces Broken Audio Equipment
120 Eager Beaver Students
1 Pre-Arranged Conference
1 Not-Really-Pre-Arranged Thunderstorm
Paper
Markers
Sprinkles
Pre-heat oven to 350 F.
Mix in a large concrete bunker of a school.
Fully prepare conference and call local official to ensure community participation.
Slip rainstorm into mix when chef is looking at something else.
Giggle as chef swears in one of the hundreds of Bikol dialects.
Fall asleep after local official decides that it would be a good idea to read the recent government act on SWM to a bunch of high school kids.
Dream of electric sheep.
Awake occasionally to the soothing sounds of feedback through the speakers.
Conduct your portion of SWM seminar in loud booming voice reminiscent of Bill Nye the Science Guy.
...
Profit
After the conference, REAL PIZZA.
I must digress for a moment; when volunteers get together, our conversation drifts through many different topics. There is not one conversation that does not include the discussion of the foods we all miss from home. Don't get me wrong, Filipino food is delicious, but there are just certain nuances of the locals' taste buds that are not agreeable with American sensibilities; the closest facsimilie to cheese here is something called "Kraft Eden," the look/taste/smell of which makes me think of coagulated radiator fluid from the cold war era. Consequently, conversations usually sound like this:
"When I go home, I am just going to sit in in AirCon room and eat a block of cheese."
"I'll raise your block of cheese for two bagels with lox and a Dove bar."
"Oh you bastard, I'll see your bagels and ice cream and raise with a jar of pickles."
...and so on...
Cheese. Pizza. Turkey. Subs. BAGELS! Ice Cream. Real Coffee. Cookies. Pasta. Olive Oil. Spaghetti Sauce that is NOT LADEN WITH SUGAR!
There is a pizza parlor at the beach that had real mozzerella cheese and real pepperoni. That was nice. I ate so much that I got sick.
Afterwards, videoke. See pictures for highlights.
This place, Bagaspas beach, has an easy beach break and a really cool guy named Baker who runs the local waverider's club. Their surfboards were broken, but we got some boogyboards and had a good morning of it. I will return.
Until the volcano is done belching up lava, my address is whatever bus I happen to be on for the day. Who knows when this will end? My work misses me. I miss my work, but not enough to sneak back to Legaspi more than once a week. If things continue this way, I will go straight from my vacation to my second Peace Corps training in Iloilo City (Panay Island, Visayas).
Enjoy your dairy you bastards.
Goodbye for now.
ps - Has anyone recieved a postcard from me yet? I am curious about the world mail system.
After weighing my options for the two weeks since my last update, I have decided that it would be better to actually experience something before I write any more.
I have been evacuated due to the erupting volcano, this is not news.
Friday I decided to take a vacation from my vacation and leave the peace and quiet of the Amor Farm Beach Resort in Donsol in search of better entertainment. A fellow volunteer, Richard Higgins, has a site in the town of Daet in Camarines Norte. He told me, earlier this week, that he was having a Solid Waste Management seminar. Given that my sector is Water and Sanitation, I felt obliged to attend.
By a strange coincidence, Daet also has the only good surf beach in the Bikol region. Must have been a lucky choice on my part to go....
SWM Conference Meringue
6 Volunteers
1 Local Official
3 Pieces Broken Audio Equipment
120 Eager Beaver Students
1 Pre-Arranged Conference
1 Not-Really-Pre-Arranged Thunderstorm
Paper
Markers
Sprinkles
Pre-heat oven to 350 F.
Mix in a large concrete bunker of a school.
Fully prepare conference and call local official to ensure community participation.
Slip rainstorm into mix when chef is looking at something else.
Giggle as chef swears in one of the hundreds of Bikol dialects.
Fall asleep after local official decides that it would be a good idea to read the recent government act on SWM to a bunch of high school kids.
Dream of electric sheep.
Awake occasionally to the soothing sounds of feedback through the speakers.
Conduct your portion of SWM seminar in loud booming voice reminiscent of Bill Nye the Science Guy.
...
Profit
After the conference, REAL PIZZA.
I must digress for a moment; when volunteers get together, our conversation drifts through many different topics. There is not one conversation that does not include the discussion of the foods we all miss from home. Don't get me wrong, Filipino food is delicious, but there are just certain nuances of the locals' taste buds that are not agreeable with American sensibilities; the closest facsimilie to cheese here is something called "Kraft Eden," the look/taste/smell of which makes me think of coagulated radiator fluid from the cold war era. Consequently, conversations usually sound like this:
"When I go home, I am just going to sit in in AirCon room and eat a block of cheese."
"I'll raise your block of cheese for two bagels with lox and a Dove bar."
"Oh you bastard, I'll see your bagels and ice cream and raise with a jar of pickles."
...and so on...
Cheese. Pizza. Turkey. Subs. BAGELS! Ice Cream. Real Coffee. Cookies. Pasta. Olive Oil. Spaghetti Sauce that is NOT LADEN WITH SUGAR!
There is a pizza parlor at the beach that had real mozzerella cheese and real pepperoni. That was nice. I ate so much that I got sick.
Afterwards, videoke. See pictures for highlights.
This place, Bagaspas beach, has an easy beach break and a really cool guy named Baker who runs the local waverider's club. Their surfboards were broken, but we got some boogyboards and had a good morning of it. I will return.
Until the volcano is done belching up lava, my address is whatever bus I happen to be on for the day. Who knows when this will end? My work misses me. I miss my work, but not enough to sneak back to Legaspi more than once a week. If things continue this way, I will go straight from my vacation to my second Peace Corps training in Iloilo City (Panay Island, Visayas).
Enjoy your dairy you bastards.
Goodbye for now.
ps - Has anyone recieved a postcard from me yet? I am curious about the world mail system.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Evacu-cation!
As no doubt many of you have heard, the "World's Largest Pimple" (aka. Mt. Mayon) has reached alert level 4. Whenever a Philippine volcano reaches level 5, we say it is "pulling a 'tubo," as in Pinatubo. That is local street slang for losing your cool. No one wants to be caught in public pulling a 'tubo; imagine your girlfriend finding out you have skid-marks on the night you planned to propose. But I digress.
The mountain has started doing its thing and as a result, Peace Corps started doing their's: I have been evacuated from lovely, sunny, pollution-and-tricycle-free Legazpi City to Donsol. Donsol, as you may know, is the Whale-Shark capitol of the Philippines. It is also home to many quiet, peaceful beach resorts far from earshot of anything but the gentle lull of the "Inside Sea," for lack of a better name. As a result of this much more desirable locale, I have been spending most of my days sitting in a hammock, reading or doing some design work on one of my many proverbial "irons in the fire."
The official line is that, while the volcano itself may not pose any immediate danger to my place of residence, the hordes of panicky people in the event of a serious catastrophe would pose a grave danger considering how poorly I blend in here.
Although I am not doing real, honest, sit-down-and-wrack-your-brain-until-it-hurts kinda work, I have been learning about cultural quirks while sitting on the beach. During the calmer weather of the summer months, the ocean water surrounding the Philippines appear as large sheets of glass, occasionally disturbed by a passing Butanding (read: Whale Shark). The smooth seas make smooth sailing and easy fishing a regular part of life. When the winds pick up, at least in Sorsogon, the locals call it "Habagat" (I think that is how it is spelled). Habagat, while I don't know the origins, could easily serve as a worthy synonym for hunger and/or poverty.
When the water is choppy the fish hide and the fisherman follow suit. When the fish are no longer plentiful, the fish markets have little to sell. When the fish markets try to raise their prices to counteract the increased demand, the stubborn local consumer refuses to buy fish that are even 10 pesos more expensive and so the market cannot sell. There are no fish, the local commerce is screwed, and the words "poor" and "hungry" become rather prevalent all over town.
Now, to sound like an asshole tourist, I should point out that while the locals are having issues with the bare necessities, the weather is actually rather pleasant. There is a constant on-shore breeze, the skies are cloudy and, honestly, it is the perfect temperature for sitting in a hammock reading a book. I empathize, and I am actually trying to get some work done to help people out instead of sitting around like a bump on a log, but that doesn't change the fact that this is probably the perfect time to have been evacuated.
Oh well, back to the hammock for me.
Page
The mountain has started doing its thing and as a result, Peace Corps started doing their's: I have been evacuated from lovely, sunny, pollution-and-tricycle-free Legazpi City to Donsol. Donsol, as you may know, is the Whale-Shark capitol of the Philippines. It is also home to many quiet, peaceful beach resorts far from earshot of anything but the gentle lull of the "Inside Sea," for lack of a better name. As a result of this much more desirable locale, I have been spending most of my days sitting in a hammock, reading or doing some design work on one of my many proverbial "irons in the fire."
The official line is that, while the volcano itself may not pose any immediate danger to my place of residence, the hordes of panicky people in the event of a serious catastrophe would pose a grave danger considering how poorly I blend in here.
Although I am not doing real, honest, sit-down-and-wrack-your-brain-until-it-hurts kinda work, I have been learning about cultural quirks while sitting on the beach. During the calmer weather of the summer months, the ocean water surrounding the Philippines appear as large sheets of glass, occasionally disturbed by a passing Butanding (read: Whale Shark). The smooth seas make smooth sailing and easy fishing a regular part of life. When the winds pick up, at least in Sorsogon, the locals call it "Habagat" (I think that is how it is spelled). Habagat, while I don't know the origins, could easily serve as a worthy synonym for hunger and/or poverty.
When the water is choppy the fish hide and the fisherman follow suit. When the fish are no longer plentiful, the fish markets have little to sell. When the fish markets try to raise their prices to counteract the increased demand, the stubborn local consumer refuses to buy fish that are even 10 pesos more expensive and so the market cannot sell. There are no fish, the local commerce is screwed, and the words "poor" and "hungry" become rather prevalent all over town.
Now, to sound like an asshole tourist, I should point out that while the locals are having issues with the bare necessities, the weather is actually rather pleasant. There is a constant on-shore breeze, the skies are cloudy and, honestly, it is the perfect temperature for sitting in a hammock reading a book. I empathize, and I am actually trying to get some work done to help people out instead of sitting around like a bump on a log, but that doesn't change the fact that this is probably the perfect time to have been evacuated.
Oh well, back to the hammock for me.
Page
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)